Daughter of darkness and the Castle Halls
by Woman-of-Winterfell
Summary: Elena Rosaline Keir is an orphan with no knowledge of lineage. This is her of story growth in the Wizarding World, of figuring out her past and dealing with her future, and the confusion of time travel. Set pre HPSS, harryXOCXseverus
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

She sat alone in the room. The only black figure in a scope of green. Green silk sheets lay on the canopy bed, green curtains on the windows, green walls. Whatever was not green In the room was made from dark wood, yet was tinted green from the rest of the room. The sun was setting, causing the slightest colors of red and gold to grace the walls. When the smallest amount on darkness entered the room due to the setting sun candles around the room flickered to life on their own accord. The slight black robed woman seemed to notice none of this. She sat at a desk focused on the small book open in front of her, the quill in her hand gliding across the paper quickly and gracefully.

_March 13, 1981_

_I could never imagine the day that I would betray my Lord. But, is faking death a betrayal? I have stayed by his side since I was first sorted into Slytherin. I was the one he asked to join him on his journey of dark arts after he killed Hepzibah Smith. I was by his side when he changed from Tom to the man I now consider my Lord. I was the first one to ever receive the Dark Mark, thus attaching my life to his. I am the only woman he ever loved, no, the only person he has ever truly loved. And sadly, yet joyfully, he is the only man I too have ever loved or will love._

_I am still amazed that at my age of 52 that I am still able to become pregnant. After being close to him multiple times over the past 37 years why must this happen now? We had assumed that I was unable to bare any children. It is well known that wizards and witches live longer lives than those of muggles, but does that also mean that witches have a longer time of being fertile. I have never read anything about this subject in a book, and I think it would be too suspicious to Mort if I started to read books about fertility. Perhaps there's one in my home library; soon I will have plenty of time to scour the rows for fertility books._

_This will be my first time I will be self reliant. I have always put him first, before myself, and before all others. Now I will put my, our child. I remember how terrified Narcissa was when pregnant with Draco. Even now after his birth, she is still always scared of an ambush that will causs the death of her son, although she would never let our Lord hear that. I find I must be even more fearful for the father of my child is not a simple follower, but the great Dark Lord himself._

_More than anything I want to protect my child. I have never doubted Mort's power or strength, but now with this child growing inside, I am. For the first time in 41 years, I am doubting him. It pains me to separate myself from him, and it can't imagine what life will be like when I am no longer by his side._

_I wonder how I have gone two months without him noticing. He, so powerful and so knowing, yet can not even see me lying, betraying him, right in front of his eyes. Luckily, I do not need to lie about everything. We have always been on the wind, traveling, learning the dark arts, gathering followers, killing the unwanted muggles and mud-bloods, escaping Aurors and members of the Order. He has never asked me about the location of the Keir Family Mansion, and I have never told him. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have it to hide. In a way it will be pleasant returning home, I haven't been there since the summer before my 7th year._

_It took some time, but I have already found an old potion that can hide the presence of a witch or wizard if taken while said magical person is still in the womb, as my child is. This potion, the Obexmagus, will shield my child from the ministry, and thus, from schools and Dumbledore._

_The part I find most distasteful is that I must live among muggles. The concept of living close to such creatures makes me squirm. The Keir mansion is far enough away from muggles to not pollute the air near my home, but close enough to get needed supplies without using magic. For the sake of my child, I will endure. I even plan to give birth in a muggle hospital. The idea of this still disgusts me, but it is the safest thing to do for my child._

The woman slowly closed the diary in front of her. She sighed as she traced the name carved in the cover, _Rosaline Ishtan Keir_. The small diary laying if front of her was the only thing besides her wand that she kept from her old life. Her life before _him_, before Tom. The first spell her father taught her was for the very book placed before her, a spell that made it never run out of pages, yet never increasing in size, making hiding it much similar. She had known Mort for forty-one years, but not even he knew of this book. Rosaline pushed back her long straight ebony hair and reached for the invisibility sash in her pocket. She covered the brown book, beaten with age with the cloth, disappearing from sight, and placed it in the small pocket located inside her robes.

She walked across the large elegant green endowed room to the conjoining bathroom. The middle aged woman sighed again looking across the bathroom coated in green marble and tile. She might be Voldemort's wife, "the first Death Eater," the so called "Dark Rose" or "Queen of Dark Arts," but as a woman she still tired of constant hiding in the homes of different Death Eaters. Rosaline was beging to be sickened by all the green used in the Malfoy mansion.

Rosaline looked into the mirror as one hand moved to rest upon her stomach. Her eyes moved to the mirror, greeting the image that appeared before her. Despite her age, she still held quite a bit of beauty, and looked like she was still in her early thirties. Her ebony locks fell straight to the middle of her back, with some strands that framed her pale face. Her skin had always been pale; and it was the years of hiding in darkness that had only added to make her skin even more white. Yet, it was this pale skin that made her bright green eyes stand out. She had never found her eyes particularly different than any other, but Mort had told her over again how her eyes were the most vibrant and beautiful aspect. She smiled for a brief second thinking of him before frowning and looking down to her stomach. She wondered what her child would look like.

"I wonder who you will resemble my little witch or wizard." She said lovingly as her hand pet the slight mound. Her mind wheeled with the images of children; little girls and boys with dark straight or wavy hair, children with pale skin that highlighted their vibrant green or blue eyes.

"Rose?" a familiar masculine voice echoed from the bedroom, interrupting her train of thought. Her hand shot away her growing belly.

"I am right here," she replied walking back into the large room, into the view of the man looking for her. Age had been good to him as well, at age fifty-four he had few wrinkles. His black hair, with a small number of white strands, was just long enough to tie back at the nape of his neck, with a wave that made him appear younger. His piercing blue eyes softened as Rosaline came into his view.

"I am holding a meeting, Severus and Pettigrew have returned from The Order with information." While his voice to most is firm and strong, she is the only one who hears his voice that is filled with softness and love. He held out his right hand to her, making his green ring flash in the candle light. Rosaline smiled at the ring, a small snake that wrapped around his finger, ending with the snakes head holding an emerald in its jaws. An emerald made from the same gem that created the simple emerald ring around her own finger and the pendent around her neck. She reached out and took his hand in hers.

"Then we must go meet our audience." Rosaline smiled gently at him, and he gave one in return. They walked hand in hand into the hallway. _I will savor this time I have left_ she thought glancing sideways at her husband as he opened the door to the meeting hall, filled with black cloaked figures.

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**So this is my first fanfiction ever. I have had this story in my head for a while and do to my schools senior project, finnaly started to write it. I still can't believe i convinced the teachers to let me right a fanfiction for my project! I am geting to write a fanfic for school! I find it amazing that my homework is to write a fanfiction! I love life right now!**

**Anyway, because this is a school project i would love to get feedback, good or bad, plot wise or gramar, i will love your comments! **

**thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Daughter of darkness and the castle halls chapter 2Chapter two

Once again Rosaline sat alone in a room. A smaller room than the last one she wrote in. White walls with white maple wood for the desk, windows, and bed. Green sheets covered the bed, trimmed with gold. The house was quiet, Rosaline the only being in the house, the only one to have been in the house for the past ten years.

_April 2, 1981_

_I have done it. I truly left him. I told Mort and the others that I had recently discovered a small shack hidden in the forest outside of Hogwarts that was being used as a meeting place for The Order. I went myself, convincing Mort that I was fine on my own. I stayed out of site on the way there; I had to walk, for although one can apparate outside of Hogwarts, Dumbledore has spells setup around the grounds telling him who apparates near school grounds. I occasionally heard a crunch of leaves or twigs but with every look around I saw nothing but forest. I entered the old rundown shack and went through multiple rooms throwing, breaking, and slashing everything, floors, walls, furniture, and excreta. Anything to make the shack seem like the scene of a struggle. I dropped different possesions here and there. My Un-picpocketable-pocketwatch, rips of my clock, one of my earrings, the quill I always carried, and other items that Mort would know were mine, and things I would not part with._

_I was conflicted to drop my necklace or ring. Mort knows that I would never part with either one, so leaving one would make him sure of my death. The necklace and ring were given to me by Mort right after I graduated from my 7th year and he asked me to go with him on his journey to study the Dark Arts. They are a symbol of our union, for he always wears his ring made from the same gem. I know I have said this many times before, but it gives me comfort thinking about it._

_When I was done causing chaos in the house I headed back to what once was a sitting room where my portkey awaited me. An old cracked vase coated with dust. I stood in front of the table it was placed upon. Hesitantly, I began to reach forward, when I was suddenly interrupted by the front door being thrown open, fallowed by foot steps thundering down the hall towards me. I swiftly drew my wand and turned so my wand pointed towards the entrance, just in time to appear in the doorway._

_James Potter stood in the empty frame. His hair was unkempt, as always, and his eyes blazing beneath his glasses._

_"What are you doing here?" He asked, anger obvious in his voice. I stayed quiet for a moment, wondering what to do with this new development._

_"You don't have to worry; I am not here on any order or mission, so you can put your wand down."_

_He huffed, "Are you expecting me to believe that."_

_I stayed silent. I know that usually I could match his skill, but with the child in my womb I did not want to risk it. My mind raced; to defeat a person with the upper hand you must find their weakness. What was his weakness? Looking into his eyes reminded me. Something a Death Eater, has for little of. Compassion. So common with Gryffindors. The only way I could think of using his weakness against him was to use my own weakness as well. I looked Potter straight in the eyes, keeping my face void emotion. If I was going to tell Potter my greatest weakness, I was not going to allow him to see the weakness of emotion. I closed my eyes while I lowered my wand. I took a deep breath and then refocused my eyes upon him._

_"I am pregnant."_

_His eyes widened in shock, mouth opening and closing as he struggled with words._

_"And the child?" His voice seemed to wonder as he spoke._

_"Who's do you think it is Potter?" I retorted, straitening my back so I stood tall and proud. Potter continued to stumble verbally._

_"OH!" he cried. His eyes widened as he stared at my stomach, my face, my stomach, and my face again, before his eyes contracted again to stare at my stomach, "Oh Merlin!"_

_And then I saw it, the last thing I wanted to see. Pity. His eyes had grown soft filled with pity. Him, a Gryffindor, a member of The Order, married to a mud-blood, a man like him feeling pity for me! A Slytherin, a pure-blood, master of Dark Arts, wife to perhaps one of the most powerful wizards that has ever lived, it's sickening. I turned my face away in disgust._

_There was a moment of silence between Potter and I. When I turned back and glanced at his face it was infinitely more serious than it was a few seconds before._

_Soon he spoke, "Remove your robe and give it to me."_

_"Excuse me?" It was perhaps one of the most shocking things I had ever heard. His face reddened and he became flustered, he seemed to just then realize the words the said._

_"You have obviously set up the house to show there was a battle," he stuttered this quite quickly with his face as red as a Remembrall, "so I need your robe as evidence that we fought." He let out large breath as if he had been holding it during his explanation._

_"Why would you help me?" I am not sure why I asked, since at the time I believed he was helping me, the wife of the most hated and feared wizard in the world and the one carrying said wizard's child, because he was a soft muggle-lover, and of course, a fool._

_His face lost all of its blush as he straightened himself and looked me strait in the eye._

_"Because I understand the need to hide to protect the child you love." In that moment, through our eyes, there was understanding, something I had never experienced with anyone other than Mort. Now, despite the whole part of understanding, I do not take back my thoughts of him being a muggle-loving fool. That will never change, it seems to be a trait Gryffindor's are born with._

_I gave him my robe, but obviously, removed my journal before I handed it to him. Once he had my robe I turned back towards the broken vase. When my hand was a few inches away from the portkey I paused momentarily, and tilted my head to the side, allowing Potter to hear me but not see my face, or perhaps so I wouldn't have to see his._

_"Thank you," I said in a whisper just loud enough for him to hear and then placed my hand on the vase before Potter could say anymore sentimental fluff._

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**I had free time so i posted the secound chapter as well. i know that my story sucks pretty hard right now, but that is why i am posting it. i wanted people to comment and tell me how to improve it. i plan to major in english next year in college, so i want to know if i am and good at writing.**


	3. Chapter 3

_April 3, 1981_

_Due to a sudden affliction of morning sickness and a unusually strong desire to sleep I was not able to finish explaining my trip to Keir mansion. So now I shall continue._

_Once I touched ground after my portkey travel I looked at my home for the first time in thirty-four years. I stood at the beginning of the drive that leads to the entrance. The old oak trees had grown, now hiding most of the house behind their greenery. Before heading towords the house, I turned around and walked to the gate that separates the house from the muggle town down below the hill. Originally the house had been built on a hill to look across a forest, sadly they were all cut down to create the muggle town, the only trees left from that forest stand on the Keir property. From the iron gate I could view the civilization I would be blending into for the next seven months._

_The house has not changed much form what I had remembered. It is still the three story wooden house from my memory. The white paint still intact on the exterior, as it always will be, due to spells. The house feels empty now with the lack of people and house elves. When my mother died two years ago leaving the house empty, she didn't leave any house elves in the house because she did not know when, or if, I would return. _

_When looking through the rooms I found that my old bedroom had not been changed. The white walls of my old room gave me a wave of nostalgia. I walked across the room the room and sat on my old green sheeted bed. I gazed at the walls of my room, my eyes resting on the small bed side table. It was covered with picture frames, all of which featured two people, smiling, hugging, kissing, and such. I felt tears begin to form at my eyes. It had been so long I had forgotten about my old schoolgirl love shrine. I picked up one of the pictures taken from New Years Eve in my 5th year. New Years Eve had always been a special day to the two of us, it being the day we shared a birthday. Mort hated his birthday, it being the day his mother died, but every year he would always say, "The only good thing about my birthday is that it is the day you came into the world." I don't think anyone would ever suspect that Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had a romantic side. In this picture I had just turned 16 and he 18. He sat in the Slytherin common room in one of the large green armchairs, with my younger self on his lap, my arms around his neck and one of his around my waist. In the photo he would look towards the me sitting on his lap, bend forward to kiss me on my forehead, and then smile. When I saw his smile was when the tears began to pour. People, including Death Eaters, view Mort as a great force, a god of sorts, an unfeeling mass of power. While the first two can be considered true, the second one is most definitely not, not to me. I have been the only person to ever see Mort smile, a true smile, not one of his satisfactory grins when a plan worked out like he had wanted. His smile is mine alone, and I am the only one he has loved, and he the only one I have loved or ever will love._

_I cried for hours, I cried until I had no more tears to cry. I have stayed by his side for 34 years and now I don't know when, or if, I will ever return. I hope that one day he will understand why I did this, that I needed to protect his child, our child. All I can do now is to wait until it is safe to return._

She set down the quill and glanced out the window towards the muggle town. She sighed and removed herself from the chair making her way through the house to The Sanctum, the hidden chamber of the Keir Mansion. Rosaline swiftly walked across the large den, to an old family crest that hung on the wall. The Keir name written on a old parchment floated above the green and gold shield. Laid over the shield was a raven, holding a wand in each of its tallons.

Rosaline reached up, putting her hand over the raven. Suddenly the ravens wings began to flutter and opened its beak.

"Welcome blood of Keir," cooed from the bird in a deep voice. The familiar voice made Rosaline smile, her father had once told her it was the voice of her many times great grandfather who built The Sanctum, back before the mansion was built, when the Keir home was just a small cottage of a wand maker. When she removed her hand from the crow the picture ruffled its wings as a crack appeared in the wall, going down the center of the crest. The crack quickly expanded, becoming longer, creating a split in the wall form the ceiling to the floor. Then with a large _humph_ the split became bigger, the wall seeming to disappear leaving an empty space as big as a doorway into a closet like space. Rosaline walked forward into the small room, and was not surprised in the least when the boards beneath her feet began to slowly lower, seemingly receding into the ground. While the floor receded through the shaft the walls around her changed to glass, allowing her to look across the vast room bellow. Candles began to light up the great chamber down below her. Even beyond her sight she knew that candles continued to light the room. Many times during her childhood Rosaline had tried to reach the other side of the room, or at least see the other wall, but never succeeded. As the floor touched ground she could hear the wall above her close back to form a normal wall.

She stepped off the platform, in front of her lay shelves upon shelves going back into the seemingly never ending room. The shelves filled with boxes, every one with a wand placed inside, and each shelf so tall that each one required a rolling did. The large set of wands made Rosaline smile, although no Keir had sold a wand for many decades, members of the Keir line were all talented in wand craft and would occasionally make a wand to honor the past generations, and for the future generations to use.

Rosaline stopped walking suddenly, putting her hand on her slightly bulging stomach and smiled.

"I wonder what kind of wand you will use my little magical one." She stroked her belly softly before sighing, "I guess I will be talking to myself quite a bit now, I never really thought just how empty the house would feel without people or House-Elves." Her fathers had always spent his free time in The Sanctum and had House-Elves who's only job was to organize the things held in The Sanctum. They had continued their work even after his death, but were sent to other households when her mother died as well, of course, not before a memory charm was placed upon them. With a moment of silence, reminiscing on her child hood, she continued walking through The Sanctum.

To the right of the wands was a section of the dungeon that made a large room, filled with more shelves. Rosaline did not enter, but made a note to check ingredients and materials. The Ingredients Chamber hold almost every substance a witch or wizard could imagine: ashwinder eggs, gillyweed, powered moonstone, puffapods, unicorn tail, and much more. Thousands of items stored for almost any potion or wand a Keir would need or want. The room Rosaline was heading to was the library, set to the left of the wand collection. There was another library above in the house, but the ones down below were the older, more powerful, and secret books. Some of the books being the only copies left, due to the Ministry destroying all the other copies because of the information they held. The library was packed full of books some bought, stolen, or written by members of the Keir family.

She walked into the book filled chamber making her way through the allies. There were many things Rosaline had to do to insure the safety of her child.

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**I would like to say thanks to SweetieCherrie who is my first reviewer! And don't worry about the "evil child" thing, i am tired of those kind of stories too. **

**Well i was so happy that i got my first review that i posted another chapter! I have up too 6 chapters writen so far. i would be doing more editing today, but one of my friends who i gave a print out of my sotry to wouldn't give it back. in fact, when i took it from her backpact she found me walking away and demanded it back so she could finish reading it. so at least that is a good sign! **

**thanks for reading!! **

_**~Cloudstorm101~**_


	4. Chapter 4

Months after "dying" Rosaline had settled down as much as she could have being alone and living within a society she find repulsive. Between researching in the library, testing new potions, an occasional wand, cleaning, and walking into the muggle town to get food and other needed items. As she did every day, Rosaline sat at her childhood desk writing in her journal.

_October 27, 1981_

_Everything I wanted to complete is now complete. It has taken years to study and somewhat perfect my **servo pravus **potions, my greatest magical achievement. A potion, that when drunk by a pregnant being protects the child from all three Unforgivable Curses. Although I planed it for me, I had to do tests on several kinds of animals. I have found the potion only works on the unborn. After her birth I plan to continue my work to create a potion for people not in the womb._

_Yes, I said her. I now know that the child growing inside of myself is going to be a witch. Although I still find the majority of muggles and their ways discussing, I admit they have knowledge of some things. The doctor was able to tell me she is a girl and even show me a picture of the little witch still inside of my womb._

_During the visit the doctor got sight of my Dark Mark. She thought it was a tattoo. She asked me if I had any others so I told her about the Heart Mark, but all I told her was that I had one just like the one on my arm on the center of my chest. So far it seems I have tided up all the lose ends of diapering but the Heart Mark. It is the one thing in this situation that I can't control._

_On another note, I am to give birth any day now, at least that is what the doctor said. A part of me had hope that Mort would be there for the birth, to hold our child, but that is a dream I must hold off for now._

Two days later, on the evening of October 30, Rosaline went into labor, packed a bag of supplies she might need, called a cab, and through yelling and screaming at the driver, arrived at the hospital in time to give birth to a healthy baby girl. When the newborn was still screeching, balling, and yet to be clean, Rosaline held her daughter in her arms. Rosaline looked into her eyes and saw Mort's brilliant blue looking back at her. Holding her black and blue bruised, mucus covered, screaming, yet beautiful child, Rosaline cried. She cried out of sorrow from leaving Mort, for Mort being unable to see his own daughter, for the chance that he never would, but mostly she cried for the joy of holding her child in her arms.

That night Rosaline stayed in the hospital and slept with her new born child in her arms, and her wand within arms reach on the bedside table, they might have helped her give birth but her hated and distrust for muggles was still strong. The fallowing morning, much to her loathing, Rosaline learned she was required to stay in the hospital for the next few days. She was quite unhappy and was chagrined that she had to remain in the presences of muggles. She was at least thankful that during her imprisonment she was

allowed to stay with her daughter. During the day Rosaline filled the required muggle paperwork. She stated that the father was unknown, that her child was her only heir and family and thus, in her death her child would receive the house and everything inside, and, of course, the name of her child. When the doctors were out of view she used an old Magical Masterpiece Maker camera to take a few pictures of herself and her little witch, smiling brighter than she had in years, she sent the film to be developed, wanting the picture of her and her child as soon as possible, planning to enhance its magical qualities when she arrived home. For a few simple hours Rosaline felt pure, complete joy. If she hadn't had been filled with such unsaturated bliss from her newborn, she would have realized she had not been this happy since Mort proposed to her after graduation.

After the sun had set and night fell upon the country, unknown to the newly made mother, across the region Voldemort entered the Potter's residence. As Rosaline held her child in her arms, laughing as her little girl tried reaching for Rosaline's wand on the near by table, Voldemort killed the young James and Lilly Potter. As Rosaline smiled and told the small child in her arms that she wasn't ready for a wand just yet, Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry. Seconds later, when the magic protecting Harry returned Voldemorts own spell, leaving nothing left but his soul, simultaneously Rosaline felt a pain in her heart, a stabbing throb, right where the Heart Mark lay. She didn't realize what was happening, she didn't think about why she was dying. All that filled her mind was that that the little witch would be taken to a muggle orphanage, was going to be raised by muggles, would grow up and might never even know she was a witch, but mostly she thought that she was never going to see the child in her arms again. When the doctors arrived, it was too late, not that there had been any chance. The balling child was removed from her mothers still warm arms, and was sent into another room, and plans were made to sent her to the near by orphanage.

With her mother dead, father thought to be dead, no wizard or witch having knowledge of her birth, and the protecting spells keeping the ministry from ever being able to sense her, five-day-year-old Elena Rosaline Keir was taken to an orphanage. Her mothers belongings, wand, camera, jewelry, was put into a box and stored in the orphanage, along with the other boxes that were to be given when the child leaves, either by being adopted or reaches the age of eighteen. The young witch was left motherless, in a muggle orphanage, with a father who doesn't know she exists, a beginning quite similar to her father's.

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I felt so bad creating Rosaline, knowing i was going to kill her. i started to cry as i wrote her death becuase by chapter 4 i had really liked writing her, but with every good comes a bad. the main character is finaly born!

once again i want to say thanks to SweetieCherrie for her review and Sarapha for her message!

so if you like the story or if you hate it, i want to know! tell me what you think!

thanks for reading! ~cloudstorm101


	5. Chapter 5

As the young Elena was being removed from her mothers limp arms, and her father's last piece of soul rushing away from the Potter household, a tall man with shoulder length greasy black hair was looking out a window. He stood at a castle window, watching the torrents of rain down upon the landscape. The castle was silent, most of the students lay asleep, completely unaware of the historical event taken place that night. Albus and Minerva had left to deal with the Potter boy, he was still surprises it took Voldemort half a year to hunt down and murder the man who killed Rosaline, leaving him alone in his gloom. He had no motivation to organize his soon to be classroom at the moment.

She was meant to be born today, but he wasn't sure. She had never said exactly how her mother got away. His mind had been whirling for the past few months, coastally distracting him from organizing her classroom and living quarters, ever since Rosaline's death had been celebrated in the Daily Prophet. Either Potter really did kill Rosaline and she will never be born, or Rosaline did get away, but would be dead by now, thus leaving her to the bleak existence in a muggle orphanage.

He sighed. A part of him wanted to go and rescue her, with the hopefully thinking that she was alive, from the bland childhood that would fallow her in the muggle world. The man sighed again, he found he had been doing that quite often in the recent months, and turned away from the window.

_But I don't know what that will change_, He thought as he walked the empty room. _The past? The future? Would a change in her future change my past? And if my past is changed what will happen to the future?_ He sighed for the countless time that day. Time continuums had always confused him. He has asked Albus what he thought, multiple times, but the gray bearded wizard would just smile and say, "Fate will be fate," and then offer him a lemon-drop.

The black haired man walked up to his desk across the room, resting his hand upon an old book. The book had once been dark ebony, but now worn with age it sits as a dirty gray. The book had been a gift, and grew to become a documentation of meetings and listings of everything he ever thought would be important. The small token of friendship was now one of his most important and prized positions, if not the most. This small binding held within it the only truly happy moments in his entire life, and had a quality very rare among any kind of book. Despite the fact that the book was given to him many years ago, in the current flow of time, the book will not be bound and sold until eight years in the future.

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**I know it is short, but it is needed for when the whole time travel stuff starts. i also know that it is clear who the guy is, but for some reason you don't know who the man is in this chapter, you can't call yourself a harry potter fan. so i am sorry this is so short, but look forward to next chapter! Rosaline is gone but Elena will finnaly get to tell her story. **

**~cloudstorm101**


	6. Chapter 6

Daughter of darkness and the castle halls Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ms. Cliff used to tell me that I started learning to read at five and was reading like a professional by seven. She said seven but I was really six and eight months, her incorrect information quite bothered me in my younger years. With her grey hair up in a bun, clad in a pastel apron she would say that becoming a great reader would be one of the most important things I will ever do in my life. She was wrong. She was also wrong in thinking I read so much because I loved to read. I have never liked reading about fictional characters and the paths of greatness they lead; those are not the books I read. I read because I want to learn.

During my breaks at school I would sit read, in the library, on the bench in the corner of the playground, sometimes I would climb to the top of the climbing bars. From there I could sit so between pages I could look out across the playground, parts of the small town of Wanding, and I could even see the abandoned gated mansion that stood on a hill on the outskirts of Wanding. Back at the orphanage I spent most of my time in a closet of a room that was assigned to me, and there I could read in silence. I never considered that small hallow rectangle _my room_, it was just a room, from the very beginning I could tell it was not where I belonged.

On one seemingly non-consequence evning in June, I found myself leaning against the wall of the dinning hall. It had been a hot day, and being stuck in a room with every other child, nosily talking and chattering away, only seceded to raise the room temperature about five degrees. I would have been having a fine time if Ms. Cliff had let me bring my book, but alas, my savoir from socializing was laying two floors above me on my bed. I had tried to go back and retrieve it when Ms. Cliff had not been paying much attention, but found the door to my closet of a room locked. I remember sighing and walking back down the stairs planning what to do for my revenge. Ms. Cliff had always wanted me to socialize more and had the idea in her head that if she removed books from my position it would forced me to socialize, she was wrong.

So there I was against the wall as people said there good byes to the 18-year-old Jordan Barker who had just finished his last year of school, and thus, it was time for me to leave. I had signed the cheep farewell card one of the staff and bought, but I didn't go up to say goodbye. For one I was determined to not move for speak for over an hour, originally it was going to be thirty minutes but the expression that Ms. Cliff's face contorted into after just fifteen minutes of my antics changed it to an hour, and I had not known the girly-faced teen very well, in fact, I don't recall ever speaking to Jordan. The farewell party was dieing down and it was just about time for Jordan to leave. Zoned out as I was, I almost didn't notice Ms. Cliff walking into the room carrying a large cardboard box, it was one of the white lidded ones that is used for files, with "Barker, Jordan" written on the side with black marker. The room went quiet as Ms. Cliff walked up to Jordan and placed the box into his hands. For a moment Jordan's face darkened, but lightened in a few moments was lightened once again by a sad smile crossing his features. Soon after this Jordan left and the rest of us proceeded to do our part in cleaning the room, I had been assigned sweeping, which was usually difficult do to the broom being made for someone of a much larger size making it hard to control, and there was the added difficulty that the topic of the white box continued to consume my mind, which caused me to forget about the boom and accidentally hit or sweep dust into the face of the girl on dust pan duty. Not that I minded, Becky had always particularly annoyed me.

What was the box? What was in the box? Why did Jordan, and as I then recalled, and all the other teens look at the box with such a sad expression? When clean up was almost completed and Becky had stalked off to her click, where she would most likely just brag about things that never really happened or say something rude and untrue about me, I trotted over to Ms. Cliff to inquire about the white box of mystery.

"The white box?" Ms. Cliff put down the plates she had been drying, "you mean the file box? We have one for every child here." She picked up the plate and continued to dry. "You want to help while I tell you about it?" I nodded my head and she past me one of the plastic plates and rags. "Those boxes hold everything we are given when I child passes through those doors. All of their paper work that could be found, and in some cases, the paperwork of their parents, are in those boxes." I froze drying, staring deeply into the plate.

"Dose my box have things about my mother?" Ms. Cliff sighed.

"It dose, but those boxes are only given to adoptive parents or leaving teens," My head that popped up with excitement from the being of her words lowered with sadness in the second half. "But, if I remember correctly, there is something in your box that could be an exception. You stay here and dry dishes and I will be back in a moment." She walked off down the hall to her office and walked inside. Although I couldn't see what she was doing, from my passion in the kitchen I could hear her sorting through her keys and unlocking a door. I had been in her office before, and there was only one other door in that room. With my observations complete I went to dry dished, and I remember drying about 15 dishes, 8 bowls, 9 forks, 10 knives, and 12 spoons. A part of me was worried that if I didn't do a good job drying she wouldn't give me whatever she was off getting.

She returned with a small piece of paper that she placed into my hands. It was a picture of a woman holding a tiny baby. Instantly I knew who the picture was of. The woman in the image had long black hair was haloed around her head on the pillow, her green eyes gleaming with joy, holding the pink blanket wrapped baby in her arms. The baby seemed to be laughing, eyes wide, showing the child's clear blue eyes. I started to cry, I was so happy yet unbelievably sad. I was glad that I now had a picture of myself with my mother but with that came the sadness that she was gone.

"Her name was Rosaline Ishtan Keir." Ms. Cliff said while placing her hand on my shoulder. I had only just realized than she had knelt down to my level.

"I can keep this?" I asked, holding the picture tightly to my chest. Ms. Cliff smiled softly.

"Of course you can." She stood up and moved behind me, pushing me forward. "Now you go up and get ready for bed and I will find a picture frame for it, just leave it in your room." I did just as she said, and when I returned from the bathroom, clean and brushed from head to toe, I found the picture in a simple dark wooden frame, standing on my desk. I sat on my bed and just stared at the picture as I brushed my long black hair and braided it into two braids. From the picture I could see I had my mother's dark straight hair, and I wondered what other traits I had that came from her, and what other traits came from my father.

My father. Now that I knew a minute amount of information on my mother I wanted some about my father. I knew that because I was sent here that either my father was dead or he was unreachable. Maybe there was info on him in the white box. I reached across the small space between my bed and my desk and grasped the picture.

"I will get it, I am going to get my white box, I swear." I vowed on my mother that I would get that box. I knew Ms. Cliff kept her key-ring in her front left pocket of her aprons, and I knew the room where the boxes where held. But what if they are on shelves? What if they are behind another door or lock after the first one? This mission would be complicated and have different segments, but I would complete it. I set the picture back down and got into bed. The plans started to form in my head as I started across the small space separating bed from desk, and focused on the picture placed there until I fell asleep. But just as sleep began to overpower me, I thought I saw the image of my mother turn her head and wave.

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**Woot! A new chapter! I have been so busy with school that i have not been abile to write as much as i would like, also meaning i can't edit and i try to do lots of editing. Hopefuly i will be done with chapter seven soon. it will be kinds boring but it is needed for the plot.**

**A super thanks to my reviewers!**

**SweetieCherrie and HeartlessLittleHamster**

**i hope every one liked this chapter so please review! if you don't like my story then i would also like your review! Negative or posaitive i want peoples thoughts!**

**cloudstorm101**


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